


An Arranged Meeting

by Kawaii_Kitty360



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alfor is alive because i sAY SO, Altean Lance (Voltron), Balmeran Hunk, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Forgot to mention Lance and Allura are siblings oops, Friendships are about to be forced, Galra Keith (Voltron), Keith and Thace are Bros™, Keith was adopted by Zarkon, M/M, Olkari Pidge, Probably more than likely going to be a Slow Burn, Shiro is whatever the hell Slav is, Slav is related to Shiro, The paladins are aliens AU, i guess??
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-10-20 00:06:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10650900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kawaii_Kitty360/pseuds/Kawaii_Kitty360
Summary: Allura clicked her tongue in annoyance, passing a look at Coran, who offered his hands to the ceiling, before meeting Lance's blue eyes. "The keyword here is 'presentable'."Or: Prine Lance of Altea is supposed to meet with Prince Keith of Galra for 'business matters', and neither of them are happy.





	1. In Which The Day is Normal

**Author's Note:**

> It dat kawaii_kat, back at it again with the procrastination of writing other stories by creating something new :3
> 
> I have no idea when I'm going to update this, but I'll try. You know me; I never update anything :D

"Hunk, stop kissing your girlfriend and come help me out!"

The sound of gunfire reverberated near Lance's head, and he ducked down, popping up for a split second to shoot his attacker in the face before kneeling again, recharging his gun out of habit. The comm was silent, and Lance furrowed his brow before snapping into it: "Hunk!"

"We're not kissing, Lance! That's not even an option right now!" The familiar voice of his friend shouted back at him, and he smirked, pressing himself against the box and peeking over the edge slightly. Nobody tried to shoot his scalp off, so he took that as a sign to keep moving. "She's only spectating!"

"Lance, your six!"

In an instant, Lance rolled out of the way as something exploded where his foot had been seconds before. "Thanks, Pidge," he said gratefully into the mic. "See, _somebody's_  helping!"

"Shay _is_  helping!"

As if on cue, the timid voice of the only other Balmeran on board rang through their headsets: "Hunk, your four!"

Another droid stepped out right in front of Lance, and he shot instinctively, the droid nearly collapsing on top of his friend. With a yelp, Hunk scrambled backward, wielding his larger gun shoulder's height and went to take a shot at Lance, but Lance dove with a squawk, tackling a droid to the ground as Hunk pulled the trigger. Lance felt the heat on it through his boot, and he looked up at the scorch mark, inches from his heel.

"Bro!" Lance hissed, giving a quick, solid punch to the droid's face, trying not to cry in pain as his knuckles simply bounced off, and he was sent flying through the air as the droid knocked him off. Hunk had round the corner, and they both grunted as Lance smacked into his chest, knocking the heavier male back as Lance landed with a distressed noise, face first, on the floor. It didn't take long for Hunk to shoot the droid down, its body backflipping and landing with a heavy 'clunk'. The room fell silent, only Lance's soft string of words that would earn him a few slaps upside the head if anybody could understand him and Hunk's panicked breath being heard in the room.

Lance cautiously raised his gun as he and Hunk stood back-to-back. Only Pidge and Shay knew where the enemies were, but they weren't saying anything.

"Shayy...?" Hunk drawled nervously, his back taunt against Lance's, despite him having at least three heads above the smaller Altean, whose eyes were scanning the area he could see, his shoulders pulling to his ears as the air grew thick with anxiousness.

Hunk let out an impressive screech as the room suddenly popped, and hummed as a robotic female voice said over the intercom: " **Simulation Over.** "

"Awh, what?" Lance pouted, his shoulders relaxing as the area darkened, walls and boxes sinking into the ground. The lights began to brighten as he looked up towards the control room to figure out why the simulation ended prematurely. He instantly frowned.

Pidge and Shay were both in their chairs, facing the tall, white-haired woman that was Allura. She had her hands on her hips, and she was saying something, but Lance found his attention drawn to the tall, lean alien beside her, who he recognized (thanks to the tuft of white on his head) as Shiro, one of Allura's closest friends and most trusted ally, even before the Balmera and Olkari. Shiro caught him staring and waved down at him with his first right arm. He could imagine the mechanical whir as he did so, since the first three right arms on his body were robotic. War scars, he described them as when Lance had asked. The question had got him not only more curiosity, but an earnest smack upside the head by Allura once they were alone.

He waved back, and Shiro returned the arm behind him, along with the rest of his arms.

Lance didn't even know what he was; Allura didn't, either, and whenever she said she'd ask him, Coran, or her father, she always forgot. Not like Lance could blame her; he usually forgot, too, even with Shiro right there while Pidge poked and prodded his robotic arms. He never really explained how he got them, and nobody really asked. At first, Allura had been horrified when she walked in on Pidge with a screwdriver in Shiro's arm, but after a lot of chaos and explanation (mainly with Pidge screaming "Science!" and Shiro trying to assure Allura it was consensual, with a lot of flailing that ended up making Shiro's arm fall off due to the fact that Pidge has loosened it during her examinations), Pidge was basically assigned as Shiro's personal robotics maintainer, which mainly involved oiling and repairing his arms in the event it broke or something.

(In all honesty, Lance had no idea why a basically magic arm would need maintenance until Shiro admit that it was the thought that counted.)

"Lance, buddy, you coming?"

The Altean was dragged (rather rudely) from his thoughts by Hunk's voice, who was starting towards the exit. With a sigh, Lance passed another look up at the control room to see Pidge and Shay following Allura out, Shiro waiting by the door until they passed the threshold. To his surprise, Shiro looked down into the room and caught Lance's gaze immediately, offering what Lance assumed was a smile down to him with his small beak-like mouth before following the women away.

 

* * *

 

 

"I thought I told you boys not to train so close to lunch."

Lance nearly rolled his eyes at Allura's scolding tone. "Yeah, yeah,  _mom_ ; we didn't realize the time when we started.  _Sorry._ "

"Don't get snappy with me," she growled, hands on her hips again as she glared at Lance, who spitefully shoveled some food into his mouth. Hunk was sitting beside him, staring at the food he made uncomfortably. Pidge sat in front of Lance, working on some other device while she ate, and Shay sat across from Hunk, looking just as awkward. 

"I'm sure they didn't mean to disobey you, Princess," Shiro said as he slithered up beside her, pressing one of his hands on her shoulder. An intimate gesture, one that would be frowned upon if it were anybody but Shiro. Allura let out a sigh, then crossed her arms as Shiro withdrew, sitting next to Coran further down the table, leaving a spot open for Allura. 

"Lance, as a prince, you need to learn proper time management. Don't tell me Father needs to enroll you in more classes."

Lance nearly choked on his meal, and Hunk snorted beside him. "No, no,  _Allura._ I do not need any more of those 'classes'." Lance added air quotes, fork still in his hand, as he spoke, much to Allura's horror. "I'm just fine the way I am. It adds to my personality." 

"It  _adds_ to the fact that you have no manners."

"Please, Allura; sister, my sweet, my best friend. I have  _all_ the manners!" 

As if that wasn't convincing enough, Lance turned and belched into his elbow. 

Allura muttered an Altean swear under her breath and walked away before she lost her mind. 

Once they were done, Lance and Hunk excused themselves to the training deck, since the simulation room was practically inaccessible without the permission from Allura or Pidge's intellect. Plus, they'd both die off the bat if they tried to go in without a spectator. 

Hunk paused as they passed a window, staring out into the empty vastness that was space. "Hey, Lance? Where did you say we were headed?"

Lance stopped at the end of the corridor, looking back at Hunk with a raised eyebrow. " _I_ didn't say anything," Lance corrected, walking up to his friend with his arms folded behind his back, swinging his leg so he was facing the window, "but  _Allura_ said we were heading towards the Lukarion galaxy. Why?"

Hunk shrugged, quiet as he rubbed the back of his neck with his large hand. "I... I dunno."

"Homesick?"

Another shrug. "A bit. It's kind of... yeah. Homesick, I guess. I kind of miss Balmera."

Lance put a hand on his friend's shoulder, smiling up at him. "Don't worry, we aren't going to keep you out in space forever. We can talk to Allura and get you and Shay back home in a few doboshes."

Hunk grinned at the reassurance and smacked Lance on the back (so hard that Lance was nearly slapped against the glass). "It's alright, there's no need. Now c'mon; those droids aren't going to fight themselves." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, uh, if it wasn't obvious, I have no idea what I'm doing. 
> 
> But I had fun, and that's what matters, right? :}


	2. In Which the Day is Bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith nearly choked on his drink, sputtering into his hand before looking Thace in the eye. "W-What?!" He turned to face Zarkon, eyes wide and confused. "You cannot be serious. You can't expect me to get along with _Alteans_!"
> 
> "I can expect you to," Zarkon began lowly, in a warning, "and you will."

The room was silent, void of motion. The ship cracked, groaning as it continued gliding through space, slowly, with no destination in mind. Not like anybody aboard minded, but it got boring when they weren't in battle, shooting every living thing they saw and raiding planets of resources. It wasn't like Keith was complaining; fighting was in his blood, and that's why he found himself in the training room most days, back pressed against a hard surface as he stilled his breathing, eyes closed and ears alert, listening...

_Thmp, thmp, thmp._

The melodic thumping of boots as the droids made their rounds. They were programmed only to fight upon noticing disturbance, set in patrol mode unless they spotted an enemy. They were inching closer to Keith's position, and he flattened himself, blade clutched in his hand as he steadied his breathing, taking slow breaths to reduce the noise he made. 

_Thmp, thmp, thmp, thmp._

The footsteps passed, in sync despite the fact that the second one was lolling slightly behind, as usual. The first passed, and then...

Keith pushed himself from the shadows, arm across his chest, blade outstretched. He jerked his arm, his knife slicing clean through the patrolling droid's body as he rolled across the hallway, pressing himself against the walls mirrored to the ones he was just hiding between. A faulty in design, easy for silent killers to stalk. The droid ahead stopped, letting out a few confused beeps before approaching the dead one's corpse.

_Thmp, thmp, thmp._

Its knees whirred with mechanical strain as it held a hand out to the corpse, more whirring as it looked around the area and stood and began to turn. Before it even made a full 180, Keith bound from the shadows, knife stabbing straight through its torso. It let out a shrill noise before it slumped, and Keith ripped his blade from the corpse as it fell. 

Quick with his work, Keith slid the bodies in their respective crevices, and pressed himself against the corner wall, turning his ears to listen for any noise. Footsteps echoed down the hallway, slightly out of sync.

_Th-Thmp, thm-thmp, thmp-mp._

Keith felt his eyebrow twitch, OCD rising from the deep depths of his soul, but he pushed it down. They wouldn't be out of sync if they were dead. 

Swiveling his ears to make sure the area was clear, he slipped into the next hallway and ran as silent as he could down the hallway, tiptoeing to a halt and pressing himself against the corner again. He couldn't hear any footsteps, and he furrowed his brows in confusion, moving deeper into the hallway. His ears flicked.

With a grunt, Keith dove, the spot behind him exploding with purple light as three droids rounded the corner, guns up and ready. The gun on Keith's hip nearly burned to be unholstered, but Keith only tightened his grip in response.  _Three, two-_

Crouching, Keith slipped forward the moment the droids pulled their triggers. In a flash of purple, Keith was up, blade slicing across the first droid's neck, its robotic head falling with a loud clatter. He ducked again, putting his right foot behind his left as he spun, jerking out with his left ankle to knock the second to the ground in front of him. The third had its sights on him.

_Had._

Keith launched forward, blade ready, and smacked the gun away, coming back in a fluid motion to stab into its chest plate, ripping the blade down and out with an eruption of oil that splattered on the last droid 'alive', who pulled the trigger, just missing Keith's head by an inch. Keith sprung, landing his entire weight on the droid's head, not even cringing as it exploded beneath him. Again, the only noise in the room was Keith's heavy breathing.

With a flash, the lights were on, and the entire room sunk into the floor, leaving Keith standing in a puddle of oil and robotic parts.

"Your highness," a voice began over the intercom, "it's time for lunch."

"Yes," Keith breathed, sheathing his weapon as he began towards the door. He wasn't hungry, but he knew better than to skip a meal to train. He was already one of the best warriors, to the point where most of the simulations were child's play, but he still worked himself until he couldn't feel his muscles every day. He was constantly trying to be stronger, and he was, but his efforts were overlooked as his father never let him go to battle. Perhaps that was why he constantly trained; to feel like he had some worth, to feel like his only job wasn't to sit on a throne and look pretty.

He was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he didn't realize he'd made it to the dining hall until he felt the eyes of his comrades on him.

Feeling hot under his fur, Keith silently slipped to his father, sitting down next to him, where a full plate was prepared. A sneaky look at everybody else informed him that he had the most on his plate, with everybody else having a normal ration while he had at least two. Not like they had limited food, nearly the opposite, but he still felt weird about having twice as much food as everybody else. 

Not even his father, who had a much bigger build than Keith, had as much as him. 

"Go on," he urged, motioning to the utensils on the side of his plate. Everybody else had begun to eat, or taken their plates back to their rooms. "You've been training since this morning. You missed breakfast."

So that's why there was so much. 

Keith sighed, picking up the fork and stabbing it into the meat, finding it already sliced into bite-sized bits for him. How annoying. "I'm fine, Father. Really."

The word felt stale in his mouth. 'Father'. It was like a false title; one he only used to the man's face. On the side, he called him Zarkon because he knew that his real father was dead, like his mother. It was especially bad because Zarkon didn't even try, and at times, Keith wondered if the reason he trained so much was because he was forced into the ring at such a young age.

Though, it was a little sad that he had a better bond with his adoptive brother, Thace, and they weren't even remotely related.

If it weren't for Thace, he would pretty much be a useless pile of fur, drowning in his own misery once he realized that the alien who had saved him was banned from communing with the Galra for being in cahoots with an enemy race. Keith often found himself down in the prison, pestering the alien who looked exactly like his savior, trying to find answers yet coming with none once he began to speak in riddles.

"What's your name?" Keith had asked, annoyed with the nonsense the guy was spewing.

"Slav," the creature answered on beat, and continued to ramble about a '1/4000 possibility that Keith got caught and he got punished for saying too much.'

"Do you have any relatives?" 

"Too many to name."

"Who's your favorite?"

Slav froze, then began to ramble about the infinite universes where he said a name. ( _"_ _Klouf,_ _Hailnef, Zohk, Bob-"_ )

"Do you know any with robotic arms?"

Slav tapped his chin in thought. "Well, if we count the infinite universes, there's a possibility even  _I_ have a robotic arm!"

"I mean presently."

"Oh. Then, that would be Shiro. He and I were together on a distant planet, and he got dissected while I was thrown into the dungeons for being 'annoying'. I wish I were in the universe where it was me instead of him, but I think I would favor the universe where neither of us got hurt."

Keith was halfway down the hallway when Slav called out to him.

"If you meet him again in another universe, please tell him I'm here! I would like to hope this is the universe where he will save me."

At that moment, Keith was just glad to have the answers he needed. He knew that his savior (hopefully less annoying than his genius, paranoid relative) was somebody named 'Shiro', who worked with the Alteans, who might have the answers about Keith's family that the rest of the Galra kept from him for far too long.

Tearing himself from his thoughts, Keith plopped the meat chunk into his mouth, almost allowing himself to slip into his mind.

"M'lord," a familiar voice spoke, and both Zarkon and Keith looked up in curiosity. Thace was standing at the door, allowing Keith to notice how empty the rest of the room was. They must've cleared out when they were done with their meal. "Have you announced the new yet? Surely we cannot keep waiting."

Zarkon let out a grunt, flicking his wrist. Thace didn't move- in fact, he simply sat down at the end of the table, analyzing eyes on the Galra royalty at the other end. "You have heard about our... conflicts, with the Altean empire, yes?"

Keith nodded, stabbing some more of his food and lifting it to his mouth. 

"Yes?" Zarkon snapped a bit harder, and Keith withdrew the fork with a glare.

" _Yes._ "

Zarkon's eyes narrowed, but he continued: "You have also heard about the upcoming council meeting?"

"The one where only princes and princesses go?" Keith's fork was on his plate, staring at Zarkon in confusion. Where was this going?

"Yes. And you are aware on how conflict is absolutely not tolerated, correct?"

"...Correct."

"We have arranged a meeting with the Altean empire," Thace cut from the end of the table, causing Keith's head to swivel towards him. "You will meet with the prince and princess to gain their trust so there will be no conflict at the council."

"If needbe," Zarkon continued slowly, glaring at Thace, who simply swallowed in reply, "you will stay with the Alteans until you are referred to as 'friend'."

Keith nearly choked on his drink, sputtering into his hand before looking up at Thace. "W-What?!" He turned to face Zarkon, eyes wide and confused. "You cannot be serious. You can't expect me to get along with _Alteans_!"

"I can expect you to," Zarkon began lowly, in a warning, "and you will."

Keith clenched his jaw before pushing away from the table and standing.

"I'm not hungry," was all he spat before he marched out of the dining hall and towards his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, uh... what even were the descriptions in this chapter
> 
> Sorry if they seemed a little awkward; it's midnight and my brain's on autopilot.


	3. In Which Lance Hears the News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro folded his arms behind his back, shyly. “Sorry. I’m so used to calling Allura ‘Princess’ that it kind of slips.”
> 
> “It’s fine,” Lance placed a hand on his shoulder (or roughly his shoulder), giving him a sincere smile. “Just don’t call me ‘Princess’ or anything; I might end up developing a crush on you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo picked this back up hi hello how are you all?

“I mean, it’s not like we’re doing anything. She hasn’t even let us touch them since she realized the meeting’s so close.”

Lance nodded, using his shield to knock away a projectile heading straight towards them. “No, yeah, I get it. It’s almost annoying. Like, we don’t even have to be fighting anybody; I just wanna fly her!”

Hunk hummed as he twisted Lance out of the way just in time for another orb to smash into the ground where Lance once stood.

“Thanks, Hunk.”

“No problem.”

“Maybe we could ask Pidge if she wants to race.” Lance took a shot at one of the drones shooting at them, watching as it exploded with a sizzle. That was another down; just three more to shoot down. An explosion behind him let him know that there were only two left.

“Do you think Allura will allow that?”

“There’s no harm in asking,” Lance passed a grin over his shoulder, though Hunk wasn’t able to see it. In an instant, they moved in unison, Lance kneeling as Hunk stepped right next to him. Their guns powered up, and with a loud ‘wmmPf’, the last two machines were out of commission.

“C’mon, guys, really? I just fixed those!” Lance and Hunk turned to watch Pidge walk in, who adjusted her glasses as they looked at her. “Lance, Allura’s looking for you. She says Alfor is on the line.”

Lance gasped, nearly throwing his Bayard to the side as he raced towards the doors. “Thanks, Pidge!”

He didn’t even wait for a response as he raced down the hall towards the control room. Allura and Coran were already in there, and he could hear the familiar voice of his father.

“...training, as always. Yes, I had Pidge summon for him.”

“Hel-lo, Father~!” Lance screeched as he barreled into Allura, swinging his arms around her shoulders and beaming up at the monitor. Upon his arrival, Alfor’s lips curled up into a soft smile.

“Hello, Lance. It is nice of you to join us.”

“Likewise. How’s Altea?”

Alfor chuckled throatily as he scratched at his chin. “A little boring without you constantly creating chaos, but it is peaceful. I just dread what will happen when the meeting is over.”

Lance frowned, raking a hand through his snow-white hair, allowing it to fall back into place, “That’s… soon, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Coran, have you told them?”

The orange-haired Altean tensed, then scratched slightly at his cheek. “N-No, your highness.”

Alfor simply hummed before speaking again: “The council does not appreciate conflict of any kind, so we have arranged a meeting with Zarkon. If all goes well, his son will stay in the Castle with you.”

Allura gasped while Lance slammed his hand on the control panel. “What? A Galra is going to stay in the Castle, so close to-”

“Even though Zarkon is cruel, he knows better than to upset the council, so they will not try and take the Lions. Besides, with the Red Lion here, on Altea, they will be unable to form Voltron, so there is no worry.”

“That might be a problem,” Allura growled, looking her father in the eye as well as she could through a monitor. “What if they trick us?”

“Allura, there is nothing to worry about. I understand that it is hard to trust the Galra after all that had happened, but it is just one-”

“One is too many.”

Lance placed a hand on Allura’s shoulder and sighed, looking up at his father. “Okay, Father, how about this: since my wonderful twin here would no doubt snap this Galra’s neck, I will go in and meet him alone. When is this meeting scheduled?”

“In a few quintants.”

Lance tried not to sputter, inhaling slightly and ignoring the glare Allura was sending his way. “Very well. Is that alright?”

“Yes. It is fine with me. I will speak with Zarkon about this when we meet, and we will see how things progress.” There was a pause, and the King looked to the side for a tick before looking back at his children. “I am sorry to cut this call short, but something has come up. I will speak to you soon.”

“Goodbye, Father,” they both said as the monitor went black.

When Lance left the room, he nearly bumped into Shiro, letting out a squawk as he wrapped nearly all his hands around Lance’s arm or cape to steady them both. “Oh! Excuse me!” the taller alien stuttered out at the same time Lance uttered, “Sorry!”

“Is Allura in there?”

Lance straightened out his cape with a nod, reaching up to undo the button holding it to his shoulders. “Yeah. She might be in the middle of breaking something, but she’s in there.”

Shiro looked away, concern written on his face. “Oh… well, thank you, Prince.”

Lance snorted as he folded the cape on his elbow, rolling out his neck. He still had his training clothes on underneath it; the cape was used as a facade to at least appear semi-formal for his Father. “I told you not to call me that.”

Shiro folded his arms behind his back, shyly. “Sorry. I’m so used to calling Allura ‘Princess’ that it kind of slips.”

“It’s fine,” Lance placed a hand on his shoulder (or roughly his shoulder), giving him a sincere smile. “Just don’t call me ‘Princess’ or anything; I might end up developing a crush on you.” Shiro’s face flushed with the wink Lance shot him before the prince tossed his head back and laughed, continuing passed the speechless creature back to the training room. He had a bit of emotion he needed to get out.

 

* * *

 

“But I don’t wanna wear this stupid suit! It’s bad enough that I have to wear a _cape_ with it. Give me at least a bit of dignity!”

Allura tried her best to hide her aggravation, her eyebrow twitching as she kept her eyes shut, shielding the burning flame of hatred to her own brother behind thin eyelids. “This cape represents honour to the Altea throne. Being as you’re a _prince_ , you must wear it.”

Lance dragged his head from side-to-side, puffing his lower lip out as he kept his arms tightly crossed over his chest, the black undersuit hugging him uncomfortably in areas he’d rather not have hugged. “Nope. I’ll wear whatever _I_ want to wear. Besides, do you know how awkward it’d be if I showed up, decked out in Altean royalty robes, and he shows up in cargo pants and a sweater? Do you know how embarrassing that would be? For both of us?”

“It will be just as embarrassing if you show up wearing the stupid outfit you insist on wearing around the Castle and he’s wearing the Galra equivalent to royal robes!”

“That sucks for him, then; we really should have addressed dresscode.”

“We didn’t have to because it’s a _meeting_ between _princes_ , that should both be donning their royal clothing!”

“Well, what if I don’t want to?”

Allura clicked her tongue in annoyance, passing a look at Coran, who offered his hands to the ceiling, before meeting Lance's blue eyes. "The keyword here is 'presentable'."

His sister’s jaw dropped so fast, Lance was worried it’d fall right off. Or, he would’ve been worried, if he weren’t busy cackling as he pulled at the tight suit around his thighs, trying to ease the fabric away from his crotch. “Yeah, Coran for the win! Thanks, man.”

“However, I do suggest you wear something that matches that cape, because you have to at least wear that.”

It was Allura’s turn to act smug, and Lance rolled his eyes as he picked the blue cape from Allura’s arm, tossing it over his shoulder. “You can count on me,” he hummed before turning on his heel (nearly falling over thanks to the socks) and stalking towards his room.

He didn’t have much inside his closet, a few shirts, hoodies and jeans (he bought them from the swap meet Coran had taken him to after showing off a pendant he got there) mixed among the various shades of blues and Altean clothing, as well as his blue paladin armor, wedged way deep in the back for the next time they were called out due to a distress signal, so he didn’t really have that much to work with. He contemplated just throwing on a jacket and jeans, but Allura would most definitely not let him go out like that, so he settled with a deep blue shirt that had different blues splotched here and there, like fading paint, and black pants that almost felt like the undersuit, only less tight and a bit thicker, so it didn’t show off every single bit of Lance’s leg muscle or hipbones. Tights, the vendor he bought them from called them, though that felt like a complete ‘duh’ moment, as the fabric was, well, _tight_ on his legs. He finished the look with a pair of boots and clipped the cape across his chest, fluffing it out slightly so it covered his upper arms, ruffling a bit before fanning out behind him. Fully satisfied with his appearance, Lance tousled his hair, winked, and shot finger guns at his reflection before finally deciding to step out of his room-

And nearly run smack-dab into Coran.

“Whoa! Jesus, C.!” Lance hissed, almost diving to the side to avoid hitting Coran’s chest, pressing a hand above his heart to try and will it to slow down before it exploded.

“Apologies, Lance,” Coran gave a small bow, giving the prince a once-over before humming deep in his throat. “I don’t see a problem with what you’re wearing. Now, follow me. The pod awaits.”

“Are you or Allura going with me?” Lance asked, feeling content with the fact that Coran found his outfit acceptable, jogging a bit to catch up with the royal advisor, falling into step with him and nearly jumping at the feeling of the cape settling against his thighs, besides the fact that he was walking rather quickly with Coran’s large strides.

“Allura is, but I must stay to guard the Castle.”

“Won’t the other Paladins be able to do that themselves?” Lance raised one of his eyebrows, confused as to why the older male wouldn’t be able to come with, despite him being practically royalty as well. “They’re capable of manning the Castle if anything went awry.”

Coran blinked at Lance, twirling his mustache between his fingers. “Yes, well, I don’t think it’s quite my business to attend something meant for only Royals. It’s a little risky even sending Allura with, but she is only there to drop you off.”

“What is this, a playdate?” Lance muttered, rolling his eyes as the bay’s door slid open, revealing all the other Paladins, as well as Allura, standing in wait for the prince to arrive.

“What on Altea are you wearing?” Allura chided, and Lance threw his cape behind him, striking a pose.

“Something _presentable_ ,” Lance retorted, slapping his hand against Coran’s while Allura seethed.

“Is this a joke to you?” she snapped, shutting up the small chatter between the other four Paladins. Even Shiro jumped a bit. “You _are_ aware of what the Galra did to us in the past, aren’t you?!”

“Of course, my sister,” Lance cooed, stepping away from Coran to approach the open pod, which hummed idly. On his way past, he fist-bumped Hunk, scratched Pidge under the chin (her weakest spot that sent her into a purring puddle in his hand) before she tried to bite his finger off, saluted Shiro, and playfully kissed Shay’s hands, earning a groan from Hunk, who then shoved Lance towards the pod and nearly causing him to trip over his sister, who stopped him short and caused him to step on his cape. “That’s why I don’t want to waste time making myself look beautiful if they probably won’t care anyway.”

Allura turned her nose, but said nothing, rather pushing Lance (again) towards the pod, making him grab onto the wing and hoist himself up, giving the Paladins below a mocking ‘princess wave’. Out of the group, only Hunk returned it, earning a shining smile from Lance. “We won’t be long.” She said, looking at the occupants of the Castle. “Will you all be alright?”

“Everything will be fine, Princess,” Coran assured, approaching to hold her hands in his. Lance might be almost as tight with Coran as he was with Hunk, but it was obvious that he and Allura had a deeper connection. After all, between the two, she was the next heir to the throne, as Lance practically thrust that responsibility upon her by ditching most his classes and spending his time goofing off in the Altea markets and striving to become as much of a menace as his prince title would allow. He hated how everybody treated him different, so he turned it into his personal mission to prove that just because he was a prince didn’t mean he was any less Altea than they.

Of course, Lance would rule right beside her, until she married. Then he hoped he could ditch Altea altogether and explore the galaxy on his own, put his name out there; maybe get it good with some ladies, have a parade or two. Who knew, really. All Lance knew is that he wanted to be free, to go out and be _himself_ , without all the rules and boundaries the Altean royal blood set on him.

But those were worries for another day, because now he had to present himself to some Galra prince.

Despite just thinking about the future Ms. Blue Lion (or future Queen of Altea because there was little chance Lance would run away with the Blue Lion), Lance found himself wondering if the alternate prince was hot or not. After all, Lance considered himself to be the most charming of princes; there was no way a _Galra_ could rival with _his_ looks.

Though, Lance was honestly tied between hoping he was right, and hoping he was wrong.

**Author's Note:**

> Mistakes? Probably. Lemme know.


End file.
